


My Encounter with Totheark

by RulerOfTravels



Series: The Encounters [1]
Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Exhibitionism, Fear Play, Light Bondage, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RulerOfTravels/pseuds/RulerOfTravels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every nerve on my body jumped. Everything froze and focused, when I saw the door handle turning slowly, silently, saw my bedroom door opening slowly, silently. He was there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Encounter with Totheark

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posting from this fanfic on my FF account (http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5858939/1/My-Encounter-with-Totheark).
> 
> This fic assumes that the narrator of "My Encounter with the Slenderman" was Jay (even though the narrator's identity is not at all specified).  
> Reading "My Encounter with the Slenderman" is not required to understand how this fic starts, but it does make a nice segue. This fic is set during/after Entry #19.
> 
> enjoy~
> 
> EDIT: Revised 1/25/14

I hadn't had my camera with me then, when I was walking from my house to Alex's old house. But I remember it… everything that happened that night. The Slender Man. Everything that happened to me.

I wrote it down the day after it happened. I still don't understand it.

It's been a week since then.

I feel so strange. I'm trying not to think about it, but with what's happened since… it's difficult to get my thoughts in order, difficult to think about it… difficult not to.

Of course I won't record anything like that it on the you tube channel. No one would take me seriously.

I have to make do with this personal journal. These new events are different, important somehow, but I don't know. I can't talk about it exactly. It's cooled, since I wrote about him. Now I'll just relate these events as best I can.

Since I encountered him… or maybe he encountered me, while I was on my way to the old house for a second time, I went back three days ago like I originally intended.

On a whim, I took a knife with me.

I got inside the house like the first time, through the sliding door. I found a bottle of pills and a bullet casing, items that I have no leads on yet.

But something else happened during that visit that really disturbed me.

I saw someone, or something, in the house, and it attacked me. Apparently. I don't remember the event actually occurring, I just have the tapes to show what happened. I woke up in my car the morning afterwards, in the woods near my neighborhood. When I got home I replayed the tape I had, and saw the figure that attacked me. I admit, after watching that, I was shaken.

I guess I stabbed him with the knife I took, but I'm not sure. I can't quite tell from the tape. Either way, I'm more frightened now, and I don't think I'll go back to the house for a while.

There's another thing I haven't mentioned yet.

Last night, I taped myself while I slept. I'm not sure why. It felt… safer somehow, that way.

But not anymore.

That figure, that thing, I guess its name is Totheark, from those other videos…

He was on the tape from last night. I had no idea…

I mean, I had locked the whole house up, even door to my room, and I was sure locked my window. I remember sleeping pretty soundly. But replaying the tape… he was there. In my bedroom! For hours, he was there, standing there, watching me.

And oh, God! He was even right next to my bed, watching me sleeping. What the fuck? And he knew I was filming him, he obviously acknowledged the camera.

What was he doing? Is he planning to kill me? Or maybe… I guess if he wanted to, he would've already.

Is it too much to hope that these frightening events will turn out like they did with the slender man?

 

Oh God, what am I saying? Am I that sick? That's… I feel crazy, but…  I don't know.

I'm going to film myself again tonight. And this time, I think I have a plan. I hope I live to write it down afterwards.

 

\---------

 

I turned on the camera, placed it at the same angle as before, and started recording.

I sat on my bed and tied a strip of smooth fabric snugly around my neck.

I tied two others to my wrists, and then I lay down on my bed and tied my wrists to my headboard, using self-tightening knots. It was a bit tricky, but I figured it out eventually, and I knew how to untie them.

I was naked. I had covered myself with only a thin sheet so I wasn't completely exposed to the camera, in case anyone ever got a hold of these tapes… I'm not an exhibitionist. It was cold, but bearable.

I didn't let myself fall asleep.

I kept the bedside lamp on like before, and I waited, waited for what seemed like hours, waited for him. Fighting off sleep, constantly glancing at the door and at the window, becoming more and more frightened, occasionally wishing I hadn't done this, but making myself stay put.

 

Every nerve on my body jumped. Everything froze and focused, when I saw the door handle turning slowly, silently, then my bedroom door gradually swung open.

He was there.

He stood in the open doorway, stiff, arms at his sides. I could see him better now-- he was wearing that wierd mask, his dark hair slicked back, and he had on black jeans and tan jacket, the same as in the tape from before. He moved into the room, stepping almost like a normal person, but very slowly, even gracefully.

I was absolutely paralyzed with fear. Instantly, I regretted my decision, realized how stupid this was, and my eyes went wide with terror as I stared at him. He approached my bed, I tugged uselessly at the knots I'd trapped myself in, and tried to move away from him. But there was no getting away now.

He approached until he was very close to me, standing tall and silent right next to my bed.

His right hand moved up slowly and touched his side. His fingers looked human… He kept his hand resting on his side, and stared down at me, though I couldn't see his eyes, only blackness.

Slowly, through the blinding haze of terror, I came back to my senses enough to realize that he was trying to say something with this gesture. I managed to tear my gaze away from his face to look at his hand, and as I did he applied pressure with it, and I saw dark wetness, blood there suddenly, seeping into the fabric around his fingers.

He was wounded... So I had stabbed him, after all.

Oh, God, no. Was he here to take his revenge because I stabbed him?

I opened my mouth to speak, but my vocal cords were frozen. I closed my mouth again and swallowed, and looked back up at his masked face. He didn't move, just stared down at me.

I opened my mouth again.

"Hh…what..hh…?"

I breathed, my voice barely a whisper. I'm not sure what I was trying to ask.

I shuddered as his head tilted to the side slowly, and he kept staring at me. Then the hand at his side moved again, and carefully started to unzip his jacket. I watched, still frozen, and started to worry when he continued to dirobe.

Was he going to show me the wound? The thought made me cringe-- I definitely didn't want to see that.

I felt awful that I stabbed him, but I don't even remember doing it.

He unzipped the jacket completely, and I saw his chest even that little bit exposed... I was horrified to feel arousal wash over me, and I couldn't stop it. he was human under there, and being this close to him, the thought of him exposing his chest was fascinating… I felt my face heat with embarrassment.

I shut my eyes as he shrugged the jacket off and let it fall to the ground, and I heard the fabric rustle as it fell. That soft fabric sound… damn it… it aroused me even more.

I opened my eyes.

His chest was hairless and muscular and smooth, and his skin shone pale in the lamplight. Against everything, against my fear, my will, and my sanity, it aroused me. My breath hitched and I could feel that I was starting to tent the thin sheet that covered me.

I swallowed and shuddered in fear and shame as I glanced at his hand again, poised over the wound in his side. It wasn't a very big cut, about half an inch long, and it was thin. Blood was smeared around it, and some more leaked out at the edges, but it didn't look deep. It obviously hurt him, though, and I flinched as he ran two of his fingers along the bright red opening. I saw his abdominal muscles tense. Blood now covered his fingertips.

After a few moments, I tore my gaze away from the blood, and looked up again at his mask.

His eyes were like black pits, I stared and stared but could never discern eyeholes in his mask, or even what material it was made out of. He met my gaze steadily. He'd been staring at my face the whole time.

I flinched as he leaned down very suddenly, his face inches away from mine. His eyes were even scarier now; nonexistent. It seemed like the mask covered his eyes, and the black circles were painted on… and yet, I couldn't see the material. His face was obscured from the light just enough to make that impossible.

The more I stared, the more frightened I became. Too terrified to keep searching for his eyes, I was forced to shut mine. My senses screamed, but I couldn't open my eyes again, I was too scared.

A few moments passed. He was entirely silent, I couldn't even hear him breathing, just the sound of my heart pounding fast in my ears.

I felt something brush against my lips.

I stopped breathing, then inhaled just slightly through my nose, and smelled the fresh tang of blood. I didn't dare move, but my whole body seemed to tense, as I felt his two fingers slide into my mouth. Right away I thought about biting him, but figured that if this was some sort of strange ritual torture, a precursor to killing me, I couldn't stop that anyway. I had stabbed him, now he was making me taste the result of my actions, then he'd do the same to me… he'd kill me. I shuddered.

His blood had a mild taste, almost sweet, not entirely the bitter tang of iron. As he pushed his fingers further into my mouth, I automatically flinched backwards, thinking he meant to choke me with them, or maybe break my jaw by forcing them down my throat. But he didn't. He paused a moment, then I felt a very strange sensation as his finger pads gently rubbed against my tongue, smearing his blood inside my mouth.

The sensation of his fingers, warm and slick and strange tasting in my mouth, moving back and forth… I shievered, to my utter shame, and my arousal returned.

I felt his other hand now, fingers warm as they brushed against my collarbone. His hand ghosted over my neck, feeling the soft fabric around it, and he gently massaged my throat and jaw line, as the fingers in my mouth kept moving. I started to suck on them, swallowing the mixture of his blood and my saliva. His other hand slowly wrapped it fingers around my neck, and I felt him squeeze slightly, then release. He was testing me. I kept my eyes closed, my thoughts racing, deep shame and arousal making my body hot. As his hand tightened around my throat again, it stayed that way, restricting my air slightly, but not hurting. Then gradually, he started to apply more pressure, and within moments I struggled, a choked moan escaping me.

Instantly, he released his hold. His fingers, too, left my mouth, and I opened my eyes to see him standing upright again, beside my bed.

Slowly, he moved backward, and away, towards my feet. Watching me always.

He stopped when he was at the foot of my bed, standing right at its middle, still staring at me.

I was scared.

I stared at him, for long moments… I don't know how much time passed, but with each second, I became more frightened. What now?

My body twitched and I tugged again at the knots around my wrists, but they were tied fast. I gritted my teeth as I felt my throat tighten, and tears leaked out of my eyes as I closed them tightly. I was an idiot... He was going to kill me now, for sure. He had messed with me, and now he'd take his revenge. This was the end for me.

That thought actually made me a little relieved, and I sobbed softly. I managed to open my eyes a little, my expression one of helplessness, guilt, and pleading. His head tilted to the side. I gave up holding back and let out a loud sob, sure he was readying to kill me. I breathed in shakily, my limbs shivering.

He stood there.

His naked chest looked so perfect in the lamplight. His arms and neck were muscular and tight. The wound on his side had stopped bleeding, the drying blood darkening on his skin. His head stayed tilted slightly to the side, his stance beautiful in its power, but stiff, unnatural, frightening… I kept thinking that he was going to kill me.

But I felt like I knew him better now… I almost trusted him. Even right then, when I thought he'd kill me, stab me in the gut and leave me to bleed out in my own bed… I was still aroused in front of him, and I couldn't stop it. My arousal was showing under the thin sheet, and I knew he could see it. I choked back another sob and opened my mouth, figuring that this was the last time I'd be able to speak before he'd kill me.

"I.. …I'm sorry," I whispered, looking into the black voids of his eyes. "I'm sorry… please don't. Please, don't hurt.. me…" I breathed the last words, my voice choked with tears, and I was truly sorry for hurting him. He had to recognize my position and see that I was sincere.

Slowly, his head tilted back upright. He stood still… and then his body leaned forward, while his face stayed level, and he kept watching me as he moved.

I whimpered loudly and babbled desperate nonsense through my tears, as he started to crawl over me, straddling my body, moving closer and closer, and I was so helpless. My body tensed and squirmed, and I tugged at my wrists, and I sobbed.

He stopped with his face inches away from mine. I couldn't hold my breath, I gasped in air, shuddering, terror lancing through me.

The masked face slid past mine, and he… unmistakably, he nuzzled my ear. On his hands and knees he was poised over me, and his face was bent down, and the mask rubbed against the side of my face, and against my ear. This close, he smelled like earth and damp cotton.

I would've thought the gesture caring, warm even, if it hadn't been so fucking weird, and I hadn't been convinced that he was going to kill me at any moment.

Then he started touching me again. I gasped softly and shuddered as one of his hands came up and ran along my shoulder, the palm warm and soft, a gentle touch. He looked straight at me, as his hand came up to my face, and his fingertips slowly brushed the tears off of my cheeks.

I wanted to turn away, to struggle, to scream… and at the same time I wanted to lean into this touch, I wanted to trust him, I wanted to be comforted, I didn't want to be scared anymore.

After a minute of this, I finally gave in… I stopped crying, and I calmed down.

Seemingly satisfied with that result, he sat up again, and then moved forward, moving to a position where he was sitting over me on his knees, straddling my stomach, putting enough of his weight on me to keep me aware of his position, but not crush my midsection. He bent forwards over me, his back arching in a C shape. I watched the muscles in his biceps and neck ripple beneath his skin as he reached both his arms out, and cradled my face.

His hands were warm.

His thumbs gently rubbed my jaw line, and he leaned in more. He tilted his head, and brought it closer to mine, and when he was only an inch away and my eyes stopped being able to focus, I shut them… and I felt a smooth, cold texture like polished plaster against my lips.

He kissed me.

It was so strange… He couldn't really kiss me, as his mouth was covered by the mask… but he did. It was almost sweet how he did it so softly.

I almost welcomed it. I'm not ashamed to admit that I kissed him back, tilting my face, moving my lips against the mask and sucking gently on the smooth, tasteless material.

It lasted only a few seconds, but as he pulled back I felt him shiver.

My body responded. My cheeks flushed, and for the first time, when I looked into the black eyes of his mask, I felt safe.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked in a whisper, my voice clearer than I thought it would be.

He didn't answer me, of course. I'm beginning to suspect that he doesn't even have the ability to speak.

He reached into the back pocket of his jeans.

I tensed, not knowing what to expect. Did he have a knife on him after all?

He held something in his hand…. A strip of black fabric.

Before I realized what was happening, he held it over my eyes, and though I struggled, he wrapped it around my head and tied it snugly behind one of my ears.

Then I felt his weight lift off of me.

Then nothing.

I couldn't see anything.

And he was totally silent… I couldn't hear him breathing or moving.

"Pl…please don't hurt me," I whispered, and then I froze as I felt the sheet covering me being pulled down.

"Ah…n-no," I whispered, a bit louder this time, squirming, but he kept pulling it down, and I cursed my body as it jumped at the feeling of the smooth fabric sliding over my now obvious erection.

I felt the sheet slide down my legs, felt it lifted away, then heard it drop to the floor.

There was no hiding now.

Behind the blindfold, my aroused imagination ran wild, making everything even worse. I knew he was staring at me… I could feel it, that hollow-sharp stare, that I used to associate with immediate danger, but now…

I felt my erection twitch and grow, to my horror, as I imagined Totheark's stare on me at this moment. I was so open, so helpless, so vulnerable to him. To my greatest shame, it turned me on. I'd set myself up for this... It was insane. I could feel every nerve on my skin, all my senses, raging and focusing from the lack of sight. I was so tense…

When I felt hot, wet suction on my cock, I almost screamed.

I felt his mouth on me, his lips wrapped around me, his tongue rubbing against me, sliding me deeper inside. My hips bucked, I couldn't stop them, and oh God, he went down even further.

I moaned out loud. I gasped and writhed, and let go of my pretenses.

He moved up and down on me, somehow keeping perfectly silent, which both disturbed and aroused me. Why was he doing this?

I felt his tongue swirl around me, felt him take me even deeper, until his nose pressed against my groin.

He swallowed around me, and I squealed.

Then his mouth was suddenly gone, and I groaned in protest as the cold air hit my wet shaft. But in a few seconds I was stunned speechless.

He lifted off my blindfold, and I opened my eyes to see his face close to mine again, the mask over it, looking calm and composed and scary as before.

I felt something touch me… and his hand, his soft, warm, powerful hand, I saw it curl around me and it started to move, and… oh fuck, he started jacking me off while staring at me.

I whimpered loudly and stared into his huge black eyes, helpless to resist, and my hips started to move with his hand, and I was panting, and I squirmed and tugged at the knots, wishing they were loose so I could hold onto him.

He nuzzled at the side of my face again and I gasped in pleasure, aching for him despite his incredible strangeness, his inhumanness.

I didn't care.... I trusted him.

"T…tothe…ark…" I gasped, hardly knowing what I was saying, "Oh…P…please…"

I wasn't sure what I was asking him for, but when I saw him shiver from my voice, and noticed the large bulge in his jeans, I wasn't scared.

He stopped touching me, and I held back a whimper. When his hand went to the zipper of his jeans, though, I fell silent. He unzipped himself and stepped out of the jeans. He wasn't wearing underwear.

I stared at his endowments, which were far larger than mine… he was cut, and very erect. I saw precum glistening on his tip.

I looked back up at his face, my eyes wide. 

He got to his knees over my feet, and his powerful, warm hands slowly gripped my ankles and lifted my legs up, bending my knees towards my chest. I whimpered and squirmed some, getting scared now that I was this exposed. I certainly knew what he intended to do, now.

I gasped softly as he draped my legs over his shoulders. He was so close… I felt the heat from his groin, barely inches away from mine.

…I realized that this was actually about to happen, and I started to panic. I'd never even been touched back there, let alone penetrated.

"W-wait… I.. ah…" I stuttered, trying to collect myself, but I knew it was too late to get away now. 

"In the drawer, there's some hand lotion... please.." I knew he would take me no matter what I said, but I could still try to avoid a lot of pain. 

I beathed a quiet sigh of relief as I watched him lean to the side to access the drawer, and he took a moment to coat himself well with lotion.

He took a hold of my thighs, and I squirmed, and he squeezed them roughly in his hands. I winced, and then I felt and saw him lurch forward, and…

I closed my eyes, I couldn't take it. But the second I did, he gripped my legs hard and shook me, so I opened my eyes and looked at his face again, putting all my fear and pain in my expression.

He wanted me to watch as he did this. He wanted to see my face as he entered me.

So I stared right into his masked eyes.

He pushed forward… and he was very hard, and it hurt and stretched, but he pushed relentlessly, and I cried out as I was breached. But he was slick enough, and slowly, agonizingly, he pushed into me, watching my expression the entire time. I whimpered when he was finally seated inside to the hilt… but then he pulled out almost completely, and then thrust himself back in, faster and without warning.

I gasped in pain. I yelled for him to stop. I looked into his eyes and told him that it hurt, that I wasn't ready, that he would break me.

But he didn't. And he didn't stop.

And it hurt so much… for a while. But after a minute, the pain subsided. And suddenly, he angled up and hit against my prostate, and I practically squealed in pleasured pain.

His hips rocked back… the forward again fast, hitting that spot a second time. He knew exactly what he was doing. I moaned shakily.

He leaned down, his thighs and hips pushing me hard against the bed, his shoulders digging into the backs of my knees, his chest almost rubbing against my erection.

He fucked me. He continued fast, erratic, without any rhythm, his thrusts hard and deep, each one catching me by surprise, making me tense, and each one less painful, and more pleasurable, than the last.

Soon I was sweating, panting, moaning at almost every movement he made. I lost track of where he started and I stopped. His abyssal eyes drilled into me like his cock, making me writhe, turning me on as I shook with sparks of fear and a desire unlike any I'd ever felt before.

I could tell when he was close because he started to tremble, and his thrusts became more even, each one very deep, but quicker as he didn't pull out as far each time. He hit my prostate with every single thrust now, and it felt like he was destroying my nerves, exhausting me, making me on fire and so tense and so very close.

Then his hands left my thighs and were suddenly around my neck.

My eyes that had been half-lidded in pleasure moments ago, suddenly grew wide, but then shut tight as a different feeling washed over me.

With myy air supply almost completely cut off, my hearing muffled as my other senses exploded with sensation, and I felt so acutely… everything. His heart beat throbbed inside me, and I felt us deeply connected.

He gripped my neck tight, not in anger but with purpose, and I forced my eyes to open just slightly. My lips formed his name.

My hips moved in sync with his, and then I was gone, pure pleasure burning through me, blackness stealing the edges of my vision, spiraling inwards until the darkness framed his masked face above me, and it was the last thing I saw before unconsciousness took me.

 

\---------

 

The next day, I woke up to find that my wrists had been untied.

I was still naked, and I could barely move. My body ached and my ass was sore, but it wasn't horribly painful. I moslty felt warm…

Sunlight shone through my window.

He wasn't there, but I know he'll be back again.


End file.
